


Doin' it for the Vine

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:55:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1702238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave decides he wants his fifteen minutes of internet fame and thoroughly pisses off Bro in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doin' it for the Vine

**Author's Note:**

> In response to prompt: Remember how Bro and Dave were overnight Vine celebrities?

Somewhere out in the dark, someone was moving.

Bro should find that concerning. He should really like, be all about that noise up in his apartment and shit. But he was. So tired. And the futon. It beckoned. 

Then his pants burst into flame.

Bro was up and off the futon in a flash, hand slapping down on his pants pocket, tearing out the sparkler that was shooting glittery sparks all over him. He stumbled toward the kitchen, intending to douse the damn thing in the kitchen sink, but whoops, the kitchen sink was still sort of full of fireworks. The sparkler hissed and spit harmless fire in his hand, sizzling out all on its own.

He heard a muffled thump from the living room as someone bumped into the futon in the sudden darkness. He turned, slow and deliberate, delivering a single gravelly, "Dave."

Stillness. Then:

"Shit shit shit SHIT!"

"COME BACK HERE YOU PIECE OF CRAP! I'M GOING TO SHOVE A SPARKLER DOWN YOUR GODDAMN THROAT!"

 

Dave fidgeted in the elevator, eyes darting from one piece of carved in graffiti to the next. Bro wouldn't look for him here, right? They always went up to the roof when they fought, so that's where Bro would look for him. Not in the clanking dinosaur of an elevator.

Dave flipped his phone out, fingers nervous and twitchy. He'd only just posted the vine of Bro and the firework, and it was already getting hits. Still, it wasn't like there weren't hundreds of other "putting fireworks in some guy's pants while he sleeps" videos. Those plebians didn't understand the true mastery of ninjahood it took to pull something like that over on Bro. 

If Dave wanted that coveted flash of overnight internet fame, he'd have to do a follow up. 

Just then the elevator dinged, and Dave jerked his head up. He had time to realize that somehow the elevator had made it back to his apartment floor? Who was even calling fo okay who was he kidding it was definitely Bro.

Almost without thinking, Dave hit record on his phone just in time for the elevator doors to open, perfectly framing a menacing Bro pushing his way into the tiny space. If Dave wasn't practically shitting his pants right now, he'd weep at the cinematographic serendipity. 

He dropped the phone when Bro slammed into him, one arm up against his throat pinning him to the wall. He clawed at Bro's forearm to no avail, chest heaving at the panicked feeling of not being able to breathe. Bro leaned down, getting right in Dave's face—and kissed him.

Because Dave totally didn't see that coming. 

Bro's arm dropped from Dave's throat somewhere around the time Dave opened his mouth, hands snaking up into Bro's hair and grabbing fistfuls of messy blonde. Bro made better use of his arms, hiking Dave up against the wall, hands firmly anchored in the soft meat of the kid's ass.

Good thing nobody in the building every used the janky old elevator (especially at ass crack of dawn in the morning). 

 

Dave woke up on the futon, not a totally unusual occurrence, but still way less comfy than his actual bed. He rolled over, dragging a mess of blankets with him, propping his head up on one elbow to look at Bro seated over by his computer. "What are you doing with my phone?"

Bro scrolled and clicked without looking over. "Morning sleeping beauty."

"Dude, I told you that that nickname has really fucked up implications. Phone? Explain?"

Bro snorted. He spun around in the chair, tossing the phone back to Dave. "We're trending."

Dave sat up, scrambling for where his phone landed in the covers. "What?"

Bro lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Featured, editor's pick, vine of the week, whatever. Point is we're popular as shit. Internet fucking loves us."

"Well yeah that's a given," Dave mumbled, opening the app up on his phone. "But why? I didn't even get a chance to post..."

And yet, Dave saw that he had three vines uploaded from last night. The first he was familiar with, the holy grail of Bro flipping the fuck out. And somehow Bro being a menacing as shit cartoon villain had made its way online, complete with Dave's undignified squeak right at the end before he dropped the phone. And the last one...

Dave looked up. "Bro. Bro, no."

Bro shot him a toothy grin. "I think you'll find that it's actually more along the lines of 'Bro, yes.'"

The last vine is just darkness. It's the sounds that sell it. The smacking of flesh on flesh, and what Dave knows is him moaning, but kind of sounds more ominous out of context. Dave scrolls down to look at the comments, and sure enough, everyone's freaking out about some kid getting murdered on the internet. One or two comments say it's obviously staged. No one seems to suggest Dave might have been making those noises because he had a dick up his ass. 

Dave flopped face-down on the futon. "How even."

A squeak suggests that Bro's gotten up from the chair. "Dunno. Something must've clunked against the phone and got it recording. I posted them when you fell asleep."

Dave whined into a pillow. "How am I supposed to market this if I'm only famous because they think I'm dead?"

Bro sat down on the futon, ruffling Dave's hair and making an unholy mess of it. "Take it as a karmic lesson from the universe, kid: feel free to fuck me, but don't you _ever_ fuck _with_ me. Got it?"

Dave whined again, burrowing deeper into the covers. How did he end up dating such a fucking dork?


End file.
